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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730107">The Long Way Around</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampionFlyer/pseuds/ChampionFlyer'>ChampionFlyer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Head Sick [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Keith (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Lance has schizophrenia, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Institutions, Mild Mental Breakdowns, keith is trying his best</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:01:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampionFlyer/pseuds/ChampionFlyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Keith awoke, he expected to wake up to the sun shining and the birds chirping. He foresaw a healthy breakfast and a cup of black, steaming coffee before he’d hop in his car, drive to the hospital, and spend his day off with his boyfriend (soon to be fiance).</p>
<p>This was not, however, how Keith started his day.</p>
<p>Or: Keith gets news from Shiro regarding Lance's mental state and one long-ass uber ride later, Keith finally comes to see there is more to Lance's head than just illness borne thoughts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith &amp; Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Head Sick [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1377496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Long Way Around</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Helloooo~ </p>
<p>This was a ride. An absolute emotional roller coaster. But it hasn't come to an end yet. </p>
<p>AND I FINALLY LEARNED HOW TO STICK TO ONE DAMN PERSPECTIVE!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Keith awoke, he expected to wake up to the sun shining and the birds chirping. He foresaw a healthy breakfast and a cup of black, steaming coffee before he’d hop in his car, drive to the hospital, and spend his day off with his boyfriend (soon to be fiance).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In his head, everything seemed perfect.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This was not, however, how Keith started his day. In fact, it was quite the opposite.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith woke up to the rain pounding on his window, displeased to find that he'd left it partially open the night before. He ignored the fact that his carpet was now drenched in water and tried to continue through his morning. His shower was cold. The freezing pipes in his basement were starting to grate on his nerves. He showered more in Lance’s personal bathroom than at his own home. He couldn’t wait to put down his deposit on their new home, but he wanted Lance to be there when they bought the house. He wanted Lance to be there for all of it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> His breakfast was anything but enough, a granola bar and half a cup of pineapple juice to be specific. There was never anything nutritious in his fridge anymore, only instant rice and protein bars. When Lance was around, he always made breakfast with fresh ingredients. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cuban Authentica,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d call it. Keith would wake up to the scent of bacon and Cuban-style french toast nearly every morning, along with the gentle harmony of Lance’s voice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now he wakes up to empty sheets and the longing aroma of Lance’s honeycomb shampoo. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The events that morning only escalated. Keith’s car didn’t start, which he attributed to his rapidly dying car battery. He had to scrounge up some cash he found in his desk drawer to pay for an Uber to the hospital. He damn well nearly put a hole in his wall after his dryer broke. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But worst of all Keith somehow missed two missed calls from Shiro's work number.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once he had his mode of transportation in place, Keith hurried to call his brother back, waiting at the front window for his ride. He could already feel his anxiety spiking. Shiro never called him through his work number unless it was serious, like if Lance was upset or-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He could have had an episode and Keith completely missed-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keith?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shiro’s voice abruptly cut through Keith’s thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, thanks for calling me back-”.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with him? I’m coming now. I’m Ubering ‘cause my car died. Did he have another episode? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell me this is something good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You can’t handle hearing anything bad. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith knew he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to stop talking. If he didn’t, he would only ever let himself get worked up, thoughts spiraling and spiraling until he would crash. Or at least that’s what his therapist said. She always told him to cut off </span>
  <em>
    <span>physically </span>
  </em>
  <span>talking before cutting off his mental train of thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just get organized,” Dr. Rakevolia had told him. “Relax your body, then your mind.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro sighed on the other end.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “How long until you get here?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Anxiety spiking. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh… at m-most an h-half an hour,” Keith mumbled out, cursing himself as he stumbled over the simplest of sentences. His studders were a nervous habit he picked up somewhere. Either from his father or Shiro. He never really knew. Keith composed himself, though not even in the presence of anyone, and glanced out the window. “Is it bad this time, Shiro?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pregnant pause before Shiro answered.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “It’s not... it’s not an episode. Just a really bad day-- or night? It was a long night and an even longer morning is what I’m trying to say.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Night?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He didn’t sleep much, even after we gave him a dose of Dalmane. He didn’t say much either until this morning when I came to check in on him. I got mostly one-word answers, which by itself is very un-Lance-like.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith listened intently to every word his brother spoke, nearly missing the white Honda that pulled up on the front curb of his driveway. He didn’t say anything when he locked his front door or when he climbed into the back seat of the Uber. He was too busy worrying over every detail of Shiro’s report. Only once did he speak up, and that was only so the driver knew what the hospital address was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I knew something was wrong. He didn’t eat breakfast and he was reluctant to take his meds. That’s when I called you the first time.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith cringed. “Yeah… I don’t know what happened there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keith, it’s fine. You were asleep, which by the way is an amazing accomplishment for you, and normal people usually don’t answer their phones at six-thirty in the morning anyway. It’s not your fault.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not your fault. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so you called me once after he didn’t take his medication. But what made you call the second time?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith could almost feel the wistfulness of the situation, even before Shiro spoke. He learned to anticipate the worst. At this moment, he thinks he’ll have to withdraw his deposit of the house he was looking at. He thinks he’ll have to wait another month for fianc-- no, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend, </span>
  </em>
  <span>to come home with him. Keith thinks Lance is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hearing </span>
  </em>
  <span>things again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>seeing </span>
  </em>
  <span>things, maybe even thinking them too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith stared at the dirtied carpet of the car, listening as Shiro spoke.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Right, he’s been having an ongoing anxiety attack for the past forty-five minutes. He kept pacing around until I finally convinced him just to sit down. He just sat on the floor and fidgeted for a while, and by that point, I’d already determined he was dealing with something other than the thoughts.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>other than the thoughts</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith didn’t even think there </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>other thoughts. He always just thought it was the normal Lance thoughts and the dangerous thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s dealing with something other than the psychosis induced thoughts. I believe he’s actually thinking, or rather worrying, about a relevant, grounded-in-reality issue,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shiro went on about the facts and possibilities on Lance’s current mental state while Keith only had one real question. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Was this my fault? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not your fault, Keith,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shiro spoke clearly through his phone.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “I can always tell when you’ve gone silent you’re thinking, and you’re always thinking the same thoughts. It’s not your fault.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean to tell me that my psychiatrist brother is able to tell when his anxious, hyper-focused little brother is </span>
  <em>
    <span>worried</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro snickered.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Whatever, kiddo. I can hear that defensive humor from all the way across your shitty Verizon plan. Text me when you get here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then Shiro hung up, leaving Keith alone to ponder in his spirits. His driver tried to make small talk. He was a nice guy. His name was Ned, he had a wife and three kids, and lives outside the city near the bay. When the conversation was over, Ned turned up the knob on the volume control panel. Keith was just grateful this guy wasn’t into shitty music like the other drivers he’s had. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ride was slow, slower than Keith would have liked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, no one could predict the traffic. Or that’s what Keith told himself when he couldn’t find a good enough excuse to be late on his ventures. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ned was humming along to the tune to a Killers song when Keith saw the big hospital sign in the distance. “Is this where I turn?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, there’s a parking lot outside the long term patient wing. You can just pull up through overhang if that’s not too much trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith didn’t know if it was the constant swerving of the car or the anxiety making him nauseous. Either way, he felt ready to hurl up the meager breakfast he’d managed. Once Ned had pulled into the overhang, Keith paid him and got out, thanking the elder driver on the way out. He must have attracted some attention with his clumsy stumbling because when he looked up, nurses and patients alike stared at him with confusion and concern. Keith brushed off his jacket and proceeded through the revolving glass doors. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been disheveled in the mental institution’s parking lot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He greeted the receptionist, Maria, with a friendly wave, to which the always she always returned. He’d usually stop to strike up a brief conversation, but he was in a hurry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>could tell when Keith was in a hurry. His posture straightens and his footsteps always get quieter. He hides worry under poorly displayed masks, waiting for them to slip off onto the cold tile floor below. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator ride was as uneventful as usual. Nothing but the irritatingly loud rattling of the AC vent and Keith’s foot-tapping filled the empty void. At one point the whole elevator seemed to stop, almost as if time had finally abandoned this world. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Keith must have imagined it because his thoughts were swiftly interrupted by the chime of the electronic </span>
  <em>
    <span>dings. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d arrived on the fourth floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From the time he exited the elevator doors ‘till he arrived at Lance’s room had gone by in a blur. His hands gripped at the inside of his coat pocket, willing for the surging waves of anxiety to disappear. No one said anything to him today as he made his way towards room </span>
  <em>
    <span>#450. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was probably for the best anyway. Keith thought that if he opened his mouth at all, his voice would break and crack along with his crumbling mood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He spotted Shiro at the end of the hallway, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. He began advancing down the long, lifeless hallway towards his brother. It had always been easy to sneak up on Shiro, especially when Keith walked as quietly as he did. However, it wasn’t until Keith got within view of Shiro’s clipboard that he nearly pulled a full one-eighty. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Patient Visit Extension Form </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Altea Psychiatric Hospital and Rehab Facility </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>8/14/2017 </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Patient name: </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith sighed in relief, causing Shiro to shriek and jump away like he’d just walked across hot embers. Lance’s name was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the name at the top of the form. If fact, the form was outdated and blank, void of any unsettling news. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But why hadn’t they just thrown those ones out? Why did the hospital keep the outdated extension forms? Why did Shiro have them?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro panted, his relieved sigh coming out more dramatic than intended. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Keith, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you just about scared the shit out of me!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah-- uh, I’m here now,” Keith’s voice came out slightly more awkward than desired like he was talking to someone new for the first time. But he wasn’t talking to anyone new, he was talking to Shiro. He was nervous to talk to the person who supported him for years, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>brother. Keith chalked up his anxious behavior to the urgency of Shiro’s previous calls and the building anticipation to see Lance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro tucked his clipboard under his arm, motioning for Keith to follow him down the hospital wing. “Look, Keith-- I know you have a lot of questions about… </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this, but just know that so far the events today do not affect his discharge date. He’ll still be out of here in a week, but that’s only if he calms down.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith listened closely, although he still counted the room numbers just as he did every day when visiting. His feet felt heavy and the hallway seemed to stretch longer. The walls were curling inward, the white walls were beginning to get blinding. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Room #446 </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Room #447</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Room #448</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Room #449</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Room #450, Lance McClain</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Condition: Schizophrenia </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor: Takashi Shirogane</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tiny plaque used to make his mouth go dry, but now he could feel words riding up his throat like bile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t wait for you guys to tear that damn thing down,” Keith muttered, his words poisoning his mood, turning it from negative to destructive. “Give it to me as a souvenir. I want to burn it in a pit, allow both myself and Lance to move on from-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes burned, and he could feel Shiro’s body tense up from his previous comment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro remained silent until he seemed to find the right words, though the right words would likely hurt. “Listen, Keith… I’m not in your situation-- hell, if I was I would be feeling exactly how you are right now. But I need you to know that this may not be the only time he has to come back here. It could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>or it could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This path you two have chosen will be difficult, but you two can do it. I believe that’s the only truth here. This… god, this will be unmanageably hard for Lance, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m proposing to him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro stumbled over his lost words, gawking at his younger brother. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The words hung in the air like airplanes. Keith glanced sideways, bracing himself for whatever emotion might be spread across his brother’s face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro’s eyes had lit up like sparklers and his toothy smile was wide enough for both of them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would Shiro be anything but supportive? Why had I expected rejection and hurt? From Shiro of all people… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Next week-- I’m proposing next week,” Keith said, realization hitting him with full force. Next week he will commit to his boyfriend of four years, vow to spend the rest of his life with him, and put the diamond, to shame all other diamonds, on his finger. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And all he could do was smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-You’re proposing?” Keith nodded. “Like next week? Do you have the ring too? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell me you got the ring, Keith.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith chuckled. “Yes, yes, I have the ring. I got it at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Balmara Jewelers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, talked to Shay, got a few recommendations, but I think I found the perfect one.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>he found the perfect one. It has a smooth silver shank, pure and untouched by anyone other than the expert jeweler. The side stones were embedded in the shoulders of the ring, gently resting in the reflective prongs. Appropriately placed between the two stones was the main attraction. A crystal blue diamond, resting between the two smaller jewels, struck Keith the moment he saw it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now it sits on his bedroom dresser in a navy blue velvet box. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro grinned, gently resting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I bet you picked the </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The main stone is the color of Lance’s eyes,” Keith murmured. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>how I knew it was the perfect one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence passed between them, reality pulling back at Keith’s uneasy mind. He glanced anxiously at the door, then back at Shiro for the all-clear. Shiro nodded, gesturing him to pass through the secure metal door before he turned back towards the nurse’s station down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Breathe,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keith thought to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just breathe.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled his ID card out of his back pocket and swiped it through the scanner. The lock clicked, indicating it was open before Keith pushed down on the cold door handle. The door made no noise as it opened, only clanking against the door frame when Keith went to shut it closed. The room was cold and grim, no actual change from how it normally is. But Lance was always bustling around doing something, and that made all the difference. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance, however, was not strolling around the room or fiddling with a random item. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was sitting against the headboard of the bed, his head buried deeply in his knees. He looked up slowly at the sound of Keith’s hesitant footsteps, but his eyes didn’t meet Keith’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith watched his boyfriend desperately swipe away at the tears rolling down his cheeks, the glistening water trails reflecting off the dim lights. His eyes were clouded with big, clunky tears that dripped every so often down his freckle covered nose. He had his hands wrapped tightly in gauze padding, or as Shiro called them, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>handguards”. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance hadn’t needed handguards in a long time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith took a tentative step closer, hoping his boyfriend would at least look up in his direction. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From the new and closer angle, Keith could see the brunette shaking. It wasn’t violent shaking like Keith had seen in the past, it looked more like quivering. Anxious trembling, maybe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lance,” Keith whispered, taking small, soft strides towards his lover. He expected Lance to ignore him, to show no sign of recognition. He expected him to be so far wrapped up in his head that all other sounds and realities were just white noise. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Expect the unexpected. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance winced, sobbing out a pathetic cry. He bolted up and off the bed straight into Keith’s arms, colliding with Keith’s chest, nearly knocking them both to the ground. His lanky limbs wrapped around Keith’s middle, his cries muffled into the hem of Keith’s cheap Target sweatshirt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey-- Lance, darling, breathe. You’re alright, you’re okay… everything’s okay,” Lance’s fingerless grip loosened the slightest, but his breathing wasn’t any better. Keith continued to coach him through breathing exercises, whispering loving reassurances and holding him close through his bouts of panic. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not quite a panic attack. It looks more like an anxiety attack if anything,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keith thought. He’d seen Lance’s panic attack, seen his episodes and bad days. He hadn’t seen an anxiety attack though. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance swallowed, gulping down air as if it had been restricted. “M’ sorry-- sorry, I-- umh, I just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shhh-- don’t apologize. Focus on your breathing, nice slow, deep breaths. We’ll talk about what’s on your mind, just… relax your mind first, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stood there in the pale litten room, swaying back and forth as Lance managed to come down from his intensely nervous state. Now he was just visibly anxious and shaky. His breaths were staggered, and his head never left Keith’s collarbone. Keith pulled him back to get a better look at his face, looking for any other signs of distress. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once more, Keith took note of how Lance wouldn’t look at him directly. Never made eye contact a single time since Keith had walked in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s sit down, and if you want to talk about it we can,” Keith whispered calmly. Lance nodded, and Keith led him over to the mattress. The pillows weren’t thrown about as Keith had seen during Lance’s mental breaks. The sheets looked as if someone had shakily pushed them back, not hastily torn them off as if they were on fire. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>None of it added up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why would he need the handguards if all of this seemed so docile? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance sniffled and sat on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. Keith sat beside him, with one arm snaked around his shoulders and the other holding his encased hand. The brunette tucked his head into Keith’s neck, shuddering as if the cold climate outside had finally caught up with him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith stroked his thumb over the gauze on Lance’s left hand, kissing his head chastely. “Talk to me, Lance. Please?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance tensed but relaxed quickly. “I--- I guess I’m worried.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith nodded, encouraging Lance to keep going. “Are you worried about something related to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thoughts </span>
  </em>
  <span>or…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m worried about going home,” Lance finished weakly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s mind shorted out but quickly sprung alive with questions. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why is he worried about going home? He couldn’t stop talking about it for weeks. Why is all of a sudden going back such a big anxiety factor? Is he thinking about things again? Am I being the irrational one? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, Keith kept the questions to himself and decided on another simple one to ask. “Why are you worried about going home?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance took a shaky breath, his hands fidgeting despite the force of the gauze padding. Keith continued, whispering in a calm and encouraging voice. “Please be honest with me, baby. Shiro and I-- we want to help you. But we can’t do that if we don’t know about these things. I love you and I want you to be safe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance exhaled shakily. “I-- I don’t want people to treat me any differently. Like I’m delicate or something. I just want things to go back to the way they were. I want to do all these different things; move into a new house, have kids, travel a little. But I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>like everything’s impossible… that doing everything that seems so normal is hard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith protectively tightened his grip around his boyfriend as he proceeded to talk. “A-And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>kids-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>so bad, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keith. But I want them to grow up with someone… normal. Not have some schizophrenic, half-ass of a father like me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lance…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>will ever be normal again. I’ll always have these episodes, and one day I’ll scare everyone away… even you,” Lance’s voice gave out, subsiding into sobs and pathetic cries. He buried the palms of his gauzy hands into his eyes, whimpering and shaking harder and harder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith felt bile in the back of his throat, tears stinging his eyes and distorting his vision. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How the hell could he even begin to think that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance was the most lively, loving, enthusiastic person Keith had ever met; seeing him so hopeless made Keith’s entire world shattered. Lance couldn’t think like this. He just couldn’t. Keith wanted him to feel hopeful and peaceful about the future. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, it seemed he was ready to give up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith gathered Lance’s hands in his own and pulled the younger brunette to look at him. Lance was still sobbing and mumbling out apologies when Keith cupped his cheek, brushing away some tears with the gentle swipes of his thumb. Keith already knew his face displayed how heartbroken he was, but he was determined. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lance, sweetheart, look at me,” Keith whispered. “You will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>scare me away. Yes, I worry about you when you go through the episodes, and yes, some days are worse than others, but you will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>drive me away. You can’t push me away either. I love you so much, and I would go to the end of the universe to make you happy. You want kids, I want kids, we’ll have kids, Lance. They’ll learn to understand how-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>works. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>work. Just like I did. But no matter how many episodes, no matter how many times you end up back here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you are still my pride and joy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The same pride and joy I fell in love with.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith choked on his words, tears spilling out of his eyes. Lance collapsed into his chest, sobbing out </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you’s” </span>
  </em>
  <span>over and over again. Keith held him close for what felt like forever. Even if it were forever, Keith still didn’t feel ready to let him go. He was also ninety percent sure Lance had fallen asleep on his chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he didn’t, and he sat up and wiped away the remaining tears. “I love you, Keith Kogane,” he hoarsely whispered, a small smile shadowed on his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, Lance McClain.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was blissful silence, lasting a few minutes before Keith broke the quietness. “So, why the handguards?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance glanced down, almost looking shameful before responding to Keith’s question. “I-- uh, I didn’t trust myself. I was really freaking out, so I asked Shiro to wrap them. I just didn’t want to scratch myself or anyone else. I know it’s stupid--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lance,” Keith’s voice wasn’t angry at all, it was more of a surprise-shock-happiness mixture. “Do you know how amazing that is? You asked for help. That’s a major sign of improvement. That means I can help you out more, all you have to do is ask me. You’ve improved and succeeded so much. I’m proud of you, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance smiled ear to ear, his blue, bloodshot eyes looking more and more assured by the minute. He reached his hand out and Keith eagerly grabbed it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sticking around for the long haul, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You bet your ass, McClain. Every step towards the future is a step we take together.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Things aren’t perfect, but they’re getting a whole hell of a lot better. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Tumblr for more updates! </p>
<p>@championflyer</p>
<p>And don't forget to comment (because they make my day) and leave kudos!</p>
<p>Love yinz &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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